Venomous Wizardry
by Hawk
Summary: Being Harry Potter isn't all that easy, especially not when the house he's grown up in is destroyed in a freak disaster and a bloodthirsty alien symbiote decides to start moonlighting as his boxer shorts! Harry PotterVenom xover.
1. One

Venomous Wizardry PG-13  
Niklas "Hawk" Jonsson

Summary: Being Harry Potter isn't all that easy, especially not when the house you've grown up in is destroyed in a freak disaster and your boxer shorts starts communicating with you!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hogwarts and whatnot are not mine, though I certainly wish they were. The story is mine though, all mine.  
If the layout looks screwy or symbols seems to be missing, you're probably reading the quickedit-mangled version of this fic on ff dot net, if it grates on your nerves too much, read it on hawksgalaxy dot com or something. ... Whenever I get around to uploading it there. :)

Feedback/Flames: Yes, please. Both of them are equally fun to read, although I must admit that I greatly prefer the first variety. :)  
I can be found on ICQ as 21771860, MSN Messenger/E-mail as iamhawk at yahoo dot com, though not very frequently as real life lately interferes with my online existance more then I'd like. More stories are available at my nifty lil' site at hawksgalaxy dot com or by clicking on my handle up above.

"speech"  
emphasis/shouts/Kindred Domination/post-hypnotic triggers  
/thoughts/  
/telepathy/  
translation  
+soundeffect/radio/telephone conversation/TV+

* * *

Chapter One: Homeless

Harry slowly clambered to his feet, his eyes opened wide as they stared at the incredible amount of destruction before him. The house on Privet Drive number four was completely in shambles, a plume of smoke slowly crawling out of the wreckage. Scattered small fires were fluttering in the faint wind, as the thirteen year old wizard staggered closer to what had until recently been the place he had grown up in.

He refused to label it 'home', even now when it no longer existed as he had once knew it.

Airborne debris had inflicted a multitude of minor wounds upon his body, but he ignored the blood slowly trickling out through a plethora of small cuts, as he wobbled his way onto the wreckage.

He felt strangely disconnected to what was going on around him, barely even flinching as he saw Vernon lying on the ground, unmoving and with his right leg separated from his body, a slew of blood covering the broken pieces of wood beneath his gargantuan body.

Moments later, he found Petunias legs, the rest of her body covered by a piece of the ceiling. Her legs jerked minutely from time to time, but he ignored that as he kept on walking.

He saw no signs of Dudley and cared little for where his whale of a cousin might be located, if he was even around at all. He wasn't sure that the fat bastard had even been in the house when... Whatever happened, happened.

/Come to me.../ he heard a faint whisper on the edges of his mind as he kept on walking, unsure of what it was that made him walk through the wreckage like he was.

He reached a large intention in the ground and absently slid down the slope, coming to a stop facing a large boulder of some sort, still smoking and giving off an incredible amount of heat.

"Meteor..." Harry mumbled to himself as he observed the foreign object that had destroyed this dwelling.

A dark fluid was leaking out of the boulder, trickling down onto the ground.

/Come to me... Touch me.../ the mental voice urged him on, though he still couldn't locate where it was coming from.

"Looks like Snape's robes turned liquid..." Harry muttered as he stared at the puddle of dark fluid on the ground. He put forth his leg and nudged the slow-moving fluid with his shoe, then gasped as the fluid appeared to move on its own, sliding up his shoe.

He jumped back in panic, only to yelp in fear as the fluid stuck to his shoe and crawled further up it, until it made contact with his sock and instantly went through it, making skin-to-weird-fluid-contact. He yelped again at the cold and clammy sensation, then gasped as he suddenly felt something else, something very different.

/Yes! You will do, for now. You will keep me alive, you will provide me with nourishment./ the odd voice announced, suddenly sounding a whole lot more close and powerful then it had before.

Though Harry cared little about that, as the fluid suddenly rushed out of the boulder and rapidly covered his entire body, judging from the weird sensation of something completely alien rapidly moving across his scrawny body.

As soon as his entire body was covered, he screamed as he suddenly felt the weird substance integrating with him. His body jerked and shuddered, before he crumbled to the ground, unconscious.

/I feel an odd strength within this body. An odd source of energy the likes of which I've never before encountered... Yes, this will do just fine. Perhaps I might even stick around this one.../ the alien symbiote reasoned as it siphoned the weird energy from the body of it's host and integrated it with itself, feeling how the odd energy rejuvenated it and swiftly returned it to it's former strength.

It swiftly went through the unconscious mind of its host, learned of the place it had wound up in and the weird creatures that populated this planet. It learned of humans, it learned of wizards and it learned of magic, which was apparently the odd energy source it had felt inside this host.

When the Muggle emergency services arrived on the scene a minute later, the symbiote had drawn upon the hosts memories and assumed a more inconspicuous shape, shrinking and hiding underneath the hosts clothes, disguised as a pair of boxer shorts.

Thus was born, Harry James 'Venom' Potter.

* * *

"Ugh." Harry grunted as he returned to awareness, opening his eyes and slowly moving his gaze around without moving his head. "Where am I?" he muttered.

/We were brought to a hospital./ a voice announced, causing Harry to sit upright and look around for the source of the announcement, before he realized that the statement hadn't passed through his ears, but rather had been injected straight into his mind.

"Who... Who are you?" Harry stuttered nervously.

/We are you. You are us. We are one./ the voice announced, a statement which served to confuse more then it clarified.

"You're... You're that freaky fluid from the boulder that fell from the skies?" Harry asked in a very strained tone of voice, feeling as if he was on the verge of fain... Passing out... Again.

Men didn't faint, they passed out. So he couldn't have fainted, no way, he had passed out.

/We were 'that freaky fluid', now we are as one./

"I have to get out of here. This place is making me crazy." Harry muttered to himself, looking around to get a look at his surroundings.

He had apparently gotten a room of his own, his clothes had been removed and he'd been outfitted with a flimsy paper gown to preserve a smidgeon of dignity.

Or so was the theory, at least. He didn't feel as if it had been preserved, considering that someone had to have stripped him out of his clothes.

And given him a pair of black boxer shorts he'd never worn before.

/Do you not like our current appearance? We can correct that./ the voice informed him.

"I'm so going crazy..." Harry muttered and threw the covers off. "Where are my clothes?" he mumbled to himself, then his eyes bulged out of their sockets as he saw the weirdest thing. His boxer shorts liquefied and started crawling out to cover his body, before they turned into clean and mended versions of the clothes he had worn before the meteor, meteorite, comet, whatever, crashed into his relative's house. "Awesome..." Harry whispered, raising his right arm and looking intently at a sweater he hadn't been wearing just moments ago.

/We are shapeshifters, we can assume whatever form we desire./ the voice informed him and Harry blinked. /That weird boxer-fluid turned into this/ he thought to himself. Or so he thought, at least. /Yes, we turned into your current attire./ the voice responded. /You can hear me/ Harry wondered. /Of course, we are as one./

"Freaky..." Harry muttered, figuring that he'd better be careful about what he was thinking. What if a stray thought caused his clothes to turn into something his aunt would wear?

/We would not do that, unless we wanted to./ was the unasked for response. /We need but think how we would want to appear and we will make it so./

Harry looked down at himself. The fluid had copied his old clothes perfectly. Too perfectly, really. Dudley's old clothes were just as ill-fitting when some alien fluid had taken their shape as the original ones were. He willed them to change in size until they fitted his body better and within a blink of an eye, the clothes became form-fitted to him.

"Cool..." Harry whispered, then panicked as he looked around the room. "Where's my wand?" he yelped. This looked like a Muggle hospital!

/It is in the drawer to your right./ the voice informed him. /But that is no longer needed./ the voice continued and Harry suddenly found himself holding a black copy of his wand in his right hand. /We can be your wand./

Harry's eyes bulged out again as he stared at the new wand he was holding, before he willed it away and observed as the wand seemed to melt and slithered across his hand until it joined with the sweater.

He shook his head, this was getting too strange for him and he could feel a headache coming on.

He opened the drawer the voice had indicated and exhaled with relief as he found his wand, a watch he'd inherited from Dudley a couple of years ago, his wallet and his glasses. He blinked and put his fingers to his face, gasping as he realized that while he wasn't wearing his glasses, he could still see.

Perfectly.

/We had no desire to remain bonded to an imperfect host, so we corrected your disability./ the voice informed him.

Harry shook his head to clear his mind, then hastily pocketed his belongings.

"I need to get out of here..." Harry muttered and walked up to the door, listening in an attempt to find out just what was going on on the other side of the door.

/We can do better then this./ the voice revealed and his sweater suddenly sprouted two antennae-looking accessories from his shoulders. The one to his right sprouted two antennae of its own, one of them shooting straight into his ear, the other sliding between the door and the doorway. The other parted as well, two ends shooting off towards his eyes and the third bit sliding between the door and doorway.

Harry blinked as he could suddenly see and hear what was going on on the other side of the door. He could see orderlies, nurses, doctors and whatnot moving around, talking to each other and entering various rooms.

"Can you get us out of here without being seen?" Harry wondered in a low voice.

/We can get out of here./ the voice agreed and Harry found his head turning on it's own, as the sweater returned to normal again along with his vision and hearing. /The window. We can exit through the window./ the voice explained and Harry walked over towards it, opening it and looking out.

"We're on the sixth floor!" he whispered shrilly as he looked out at a small garden located between the various buildings this hospital was made up out of.

/We are not scared of heights./ the voice stated and Harry whimpered as his body moved again, taking him out through the window. He hung from the windowsill as the sweater shifted again, outfitting him with gloves. Then the gloves... Extended.

Harry felt like fain... Passing out again, as one end of the gloves were still attached to the windowsill as he simply walked backwards down the building, the shapeshifting fluid using itself as two ropes connected to the windowsill and his new gloves. Before long, he found himself standing on the ground and the gloves retracted into themselves, before they rejoined with the sweater.

Harry stared up at the building he'd just climbed down, shook his head and shuddered violently.

"I need to get out of here..." he repeated and made his way out onto the streets, vanishing into the crowds.

* * *

"Ugh." Nymphadora Tonks grunted as she slowly returned to consciousness. She rubbed her aching forehead and pulled herself into a sitting position, blinking as she tried to recollect what had happened to her.

She had been watching the house and the young boy as she had been asked, when suddenly...

She couldn't quite remember, but she got a mental image of the front door flying at her.

She shook her head and groaned at the headache that threatened to overwhelm her, at the same time as her stomach let her know that if she didn't do something quick, it'd get rid of its current contents, with or without her cooperation.

But as her gaze settled on what used to be a house, any concerns regarding her head or stomach vanished instantly. It was reduced to a pile of rubble, sectioned off with police tape. She stood up and absently adjusted her invisibility cloak, making sure that she was still hidden, as she observed the carnage in front of her.

"Time." she whispered as she held her wand, shuddering as she found out that she'd been unconscious for at least three hours. A hasty search of the ruined building revealed that the boy she was supposed to guard, just wasn't there. She suppressed a desire to curse out loud, then swiftly Apparated away. She needed to let Dumbledore know that The-Boy-Who-Lived, was missing.

* * *

"Now what?" Harry sighed as he looked out over the destroyed remains of the house where he had grown up. "No Dursley's, no Hedwig, no place to live and no way to contact anyone else I know."

Hedwig had been out hunting when he was doing yard work. He hoped that she hadn't returned to his room without his knowing about it, but he couldn't be sure of that. He didn't want to turn himself in to the authorities, as they'd most likely send him off to an orphanage or something. But he didn't know what else to do.

/Our memory reveals that we have access to significant funds. We can arrange for our own home./ the voice suggested.

"But that money is at Gringotts." Harry protested.

/We know how to get there. Our current funds should be sufficient to get us if not all of the way, then at least a significant amount of the way. We can walk or run the rest of the way./ the voice argued.

"I guess..." Harry sighed and scratched the back of his head. "I should bring the trunk, however." he reasoned and climbed underneath the police tape, moving around to where his old room had been, then groaned as he saw the amount of rubble. Most troublesome was a large portion of the roof, which he had no chance in hell of moving.

/We can move it./ the voice protested. /Just try it./ it insisted and Harry sighed, then decided to give it a go just to prove the voice wrong. But to his immense surprise, he managed to lift the section with only minor effort.

"How is this possible!" Harry breathed, staring in disbelief at how he held the large piece of rubble over his head. He cautiously removed his left hand and still managed to hold it up, even if he didn't think he could take much more with just one arm.

/We are able to enhance the abilities of ourselves to levels beyond what our bodies were previously capable of./

Harry shrugged it off, telling himself that he would have to sit down and have a long talk with his new... Whateverthehell it was... And find out just what the fuck it was capable of and what else had changed about him due to his new... Whateveritwas.

He threw wreckage aside and soon uncovered his school trunk. It was somewhat battered and beaten, but mostly intact. He picked it up and considered what else he had lying around that he might want to keep, but couldn't really think of anything worth the effort required to uncover.

He had unpacked some of his clothes, but it appeared that that wasn't something he'd have any urgent need of, considering that the weird boxers could turn into any sort of clothes he could imagine, apparently.

The only thing that wasn't in the trunk he considered worth keeping, was the cage for Hedwig, but that had most likely been smashed to pieces.

Besides, he didn't even know if Hedwig had made it or not. Though the lack of blood and feathers gave him reason to hope that the owl hadn't been present as the building collapsed.

"Well, I guess there's nothing left for me here." Harry sighed and got back onto the street, heading for a nearby bus station, absently hoping that he'd have enough Muggle money to make it to The Leaky Cauldron without having to walk or run, as his clothes had suggested.

Though considering the fact how much more strong he was and how much his stamina seemed to have improved, perhaps it wouldn't be so scary a prospect as he'd first thought.

* * *

"What... What happened here?" Dumbledore asked as he Apparated on scene, followed by Minerva, Severus and Nymphadora.

"I'm not sure." Tonks admitted. "I was hiding in those bushes, when all of a sudden the front door came flying at me and knocked me out. When I woke up, the building was like this." she explained, indicating where she had been when it happened and nodding at the destroyed building.

"Potter probably messed something up when practising whatever meagre skills he might possess." Snape spat out, though his statement lacked quite a bit of its usual venom.

"Accidental magic or a magical mishap?" Dumbledore mused, then shook his head. "No, I cannot feel any magical residue, other then from our Apparations. Whatever caused this, wasn't magic." he revealed.

"Gas leak?" Tonks suggested as the four of them crossed the police line, under protection from Dumbledore's hastily cast Notice-me-not-charms.

"I think I found the reason." Dumbledore announced and nodded at the hole in the ground and the boulder lying in the centre of it.

"A meteor? Wow, what are the chances of that happening?" Tonks exclaimed.

"Astronomical." McGonagall said with a disbelieving shake of her head. "Where's Harry?" she asked.

"I'm not sure." Dumbledore revealed. "When Tonks reported in, I tried to scry his location, but couldn't get a fix on him. At all."

"He's dead, then?" Snape asked.

"Even if he was, I should still have been able to find his body. But I find it highly unlikely that this managed to kill him." Dumbledore revealed, though he didn't let on the reason why he believed that. None of the others knew of the prophecy. "The Dursley's... Vernon and Petunia died, Dudley was taken to a Muggle hospital." he revealed from what little his temporal abilities were able to tell him after a brief attempt at scrying.

"Good riddance." Tonks snorted. "I've only seen them five times and that was enough to make me want to transform them into dog food and donate them to the nearest animal shelter. They were horrible people." she shuddered.

"Come now, they couldn't have been that bad." Dumbledore mildly protested.

"The male whale insulted and abused Harry every chance he got. The female idiot kept him as a slave, forcing him to do all the household chores. The blob of a kid hit him, insulted him and generally made his life hell." Tonks snapped. "Harry's life here was hell! Whatever moron placed him here seriously fucked up!"

"Was it really that bad?" Dumbledore asked with a pained wince. He'd heard how much Harry disliked staying here, but he'd simply assumed that it was merely a case of a child exaggerating for attention. "He was family, surely they couldn't have treated him that badly?"

"It was probably worse, as I couldn't see all that was going on." Tonks said. "Why he never pressed changes and got them arrested for child abuse, is beyond me."

"Oh..." Dumbledore said, realizing what a horrible mistake he had made.

"Who cares?" Snape snapped. "What we need to find out is where Potter is at now!"

* * *

At that particular moment in time, Harry was waiting for a bus to arrive that would take him to London.

Some time later, he found himself standing outside The Leaky Cauldron, having had to walk for nearly thirty minutes after he ran out of Muggle money.

It really hadn't been as bad as he had first thought. Even with the trunk he carried, he didn't feel tired at all. The trunk felt as light as a feather and despite the brisk pace of his thirty-minute walk, he wasn't even winded.

He first thought about greeting Tom, but decided that getting some funds was a priority, so he simply crossed the room and headed for the entrance to Diagon Alley. He was about to reach for his wand, when his oddball clothes sensed the need for a wand and he once again found himself holding the black replica of his real wand.

He shrugged and tapped the correct stones, which made the portal appear just as if he had used his regular wand. He shrugged and the wand melted back into his sweater, just like before.

He didn't know if it could be used to cast real spells, jinx and charms, but he didn't want to try it out either at the moment, just in case the Ministry got wind of it and sent him a notice. Though in case things didn't work out, he guessed that he could use that as a last resort to get hold of the magic authorities.

He rapidly found his way to Gringotts and after flashing his key, soon found himself standing in his vault where he poured a significant amount of coins into his trunk for later use and as much as he could fit into his pockets for instant access.

The amount he could fit into his pockets was rather surprising, but his sentient boxer shorts explained to him how distances and volume could be deceptive at times. Apparently, the insides of his pockets could become larger then they were on the outside, if he so desired. Much larger, apparently.

Harry shrugged it off as inconsequential. There were spells that could do the same, he knew. So he didn't care overly much if his weird boxers could duplicate the effects of that.

/Do you get dirty/ he mentally asked his clothes as he walked out of the bank. /Y'know, should I get some other clothes I can wear when you're being washed or something/

/We are self-maintaining and fully capable of disposing of any foreign substances./ his clothes informed him in what felt like an offended note. /We will never require washing./ it stiffly added as it sensed that Harry hadn't quite understood what it was getting at.

/Guess that's solved then. How much can you change? I mean, can you turn into a winter coat, a robe or things like that/ Harry asked.

/We most certainly can./ his clothes responded. /Though we need not worry about variations in temperature, no matter our form. We are capable of sustaining an optimal living environment none the less./

/Oh. Cool./ Harry thought approvingly. /Well, I guess I need a place to stay, then./ he reasoned and strode off, wondering where he might be able to find a place to stay for the night as the hour was getting late.

Some time later, he found himself standing in front of the Brown Hotel. He had found out after asking a wizard on the street, that The Leaky Cauldron offered rooms for rent, but that the best accommodations in Diagon Alley could be found at the Brown Hotel.

Entering the establishment in question, was another example of distances and appearances being deceiving. The outside looked like a rickety old wooden building, just like most to be found in Diagon Alley. The inside however was resplendent. Gleaming marble walls, polished wooden floor and an inside much larger then the outside of the building.

He signed in at the reception and paid for his room, using the name Neville Longbottom, hoping that Nev wouldn't mind him using his name. It was for a good cause, however. He had no desire whatsoever of dealing with the hassle of being Harry Potter at the moment. He just wanted to get some rest in a soft bed, he could return to being Harry Potter in the morning.

THE END! ( For now... )

The End! ( For now... )


	2. Two

Venomous Wizardry PG-13  
Niklas "Hawk" Jonsson

Summary: Being Harry Potter isn't all that easy, especially not when the house he's grown up in is destroyed in a freak disaster and a bloodthirsty alien symbiote decides to start moonlighting as his boxer shorts! Harry Potter/Venom xover.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hogwarts and whatnot are not mine, though I certainly wish they were. The story is mine though, all mine.  
If the layout looks screwy or symbols seems to be missing, you're probably reading the quickedit-mangled version of this fic on ff dot net, if it grates on your nerves too much, read it on hawksgalaxy dot com or something. ... Whenever I get around to uploading it there. :)

Feedback/Flames: Yes, please. Both of them are equally fun to read, although I must admit that I greatly prefer the first variety. :)  
I can be found on ICQ as 21771860, MSN Messenger/E-mail as iamhawk at yahoo dot com, though not very frequently as real life lately interferes with my online existence more then I'd like. More stories are available at my nifty lil' site at hawksgalaxy dot com or by clicking on my handle up above.

"speech"  
emphasis/shouts/Kindred Domination/post-hypnotic triggers  
/thoughts/  
/telepathy/  
translation  
+soundeffect/radio/telephone conversation/TV+

Previously, on 'Venomous Wizardry'

He rapidly found his way to Gringotts and after flashing his key, soon found himself standing in his vault where he poured a significant amount of coins into his trunk for later use and as much as he could fit into his pockets for instant access.

The amount he could fit into his pockets was rather surprising, but his sentient boxer shorts explained to him how distances and volume could be deceptive at times. Apparently, the insides of his pockets could become larger then they were on the outside, if he so desired. Much larger, apparently.

Harry shrugged it off as inconsequential. There were spells that could do the same, he knew. So he didn't care overly much if his weird boxers could duplicate the effects of that. 

/Do you get dirty/ he mentally asked his clothes as he walked out of the bank. /Y'know, should I get some other clothes I can wear when you're being washed or something/

/We are self-maintaining and fully capable of disposing of any foreign substances./ his clothes informed him in what felt like an offended note. /We will never require washing./ it stiffly added as it sensed that Harry hadn't quite understood what it was getting at.

/Guess that's solved then. How much can you change? I mean, can you turn into a winter coat, a robe or things like that/ Harry asked.

/We most certainly can./ his clothes responded. /Though we need not worry about variations in temperature, no matter our form. We are capable of sustaining an optimal living environment none the less./

/Oh. Cool./ Harry thought approvingly. /Well, I guess I need a place to stay, then./ he reasoned and strode off, wondering where he might be able to find a place to stay for the night as the hour was getting late.

Some time later, he found himself standing in front of the Brown Hotel. He had found out after asking a wizard on the street, that The Leaky Cauldron offered rooms for rent, but that the best accommodations in Diagon Alley could be found at the Brown Hotel.

Entering the establishment in question, was another example of distances and appearances being deceiving. The outside looked like a rickety old wooden building, just like most to be found in Diagon Alley. The inside however was resplendent. Gleaming marble walls, polished wooden floor and an inside much larger then the outside of the building.

He signed in at the reception and paid for his room, using the name Neville Longbottom, hoping that Nev wouldn't mind him using his name. It was for a good cause, however. He had no desire whatsoever of dealing with the hassle of being Harry Potter at the moment. He just wanted to get some rest in a soft bed, he could return to being Harry Potter in the morning.

Roll credits

* * *

Chapter Two: The Snape of Things to Come

"Snork..." Harry snored as the symbiote did some research. The alien creature had assumed the form of the same black boxer shorts it had turned into after first meeting with its current host. Extending from those shorts, were several small tentacles which was currently rummaging through Harry's trunk. One of the tentacles had manifested a human-looking eye at the end, an eye which was currently reading a book on charms from Harry's trunk.

While it had gleamed an understanding of sorts about the subject from Harry's mind, its own understanding of the subject was only as good as Harry's at the moment. Reading the book improved on this, as the alien creature was significantly more mentally advanced then its current host. The host was still developing, not even two decades old and still had a lot of maturing left to do, both physical, mental and emotional.

The symbiote had seen more then five centuries since it came to awareness, had been through a handful of hosts previously, before it had been separated from the last one, sealed in the boulder and then sent off into space. It had spent the last seventy years hurling through space, before it had entered the atmosphere of this planet and crashed into its current hosts former domicile.

It hadn't encountered anything like this magic thing before, however. This was something completely out of its previous experiences, but it seemed extremely interesting.

And incredibly useful.

The downside of it all, was that it could only siphon a very limited amount of power from the host. As the symbiote lacked all means to produce its own magic energy and was severely lacking in it's capability to store magic energy, it was fully dependent on the host for the means to fuel any magic acts.

But as the host developed, so too would the symbiote. Meaning that one of the foremost goals would have to be to hasten the development of the current host to his full potential. The host was already far more powerful then it had been when they first joined, but the symbiote could sense a far greater inherent potential in the host. Now it just had to find out just how to encourage the growth of the host until that potential was fulfilled.

A more powerful host, meant that the symbiote would be safer, which was a priority as the host seemed to be prone to dangerous situations and that could endanger the symbiote as well.

Something would have to be done about that.

* * *

"Where did all these books come from!" Harry exclaimed as he woke up and returned from a visit to the bathroom, only to be faced with piles of books all over the room.

/We spent the night studying and we ran out of our books./ the voice in his head informed him.

"Where did you get them!" Harry demanded to know.

/The bookstore here in the alley./ his shorts replied.

"You broke into a store and stole books?" Harry demanded to know.

/No. We left money on the counter./ was the uncaring response. /The pile on our right contains highly recommended reading. The one on your far left is pure drivel. The others are merely recommended reading./ it added.

"Don't you need to sleep?" Harry asked.

/We require brief periods of hibernation, yes. But roughly one hour per daily cycle is sufficient./ was the uncaring response.

"Spending the whole night reading, geez, you're worse then Hermione. I bet even she sleeps at least part of the night!" Harry exclaimed. "I'd never do something like that." he proudly announced.

/Which might explain the reason why we've nearly gotten prematurely terminated so often./ his clothes acidly commented. /Had our store of knowledge been greater, several unfortunate situations could have been easily avoided or at the very least greatly simplified./

"Shut up." Harry ordered.

/We will not be silenced. We are correct and we know it./ was the firm response. /We need to learn more then what we know now. We need to expand our knowledge and eradicate our failings. Survival is essential and knowledge is essential for survival. Better to succeed by being overly prepared, then fail because of ignorance./ the voice insisted.

"I'm just a kid, I can't spend all my time with my nose buried in a book like Hermione! I'll get just as loony as she is." Harry protested.

/Would we still be alive today, without her? Knowledge is power./ the voice insisted. /We are not advocating to solely pursue knowledge, but it would be extremely highly recommended for us to devote more time to it then our current quota. While there is a certain intermingling of knowledge between Host and Symbiote, we still need practise and study for it to fully take hold./

/Waitwaitwait... Symbiote/ Harry interjected, hung up on one part of the explanation he'd just received. /You're a symbiote? A parasite/

/We are one./ was the simple response, as if that explained anything.

/But before we were one, what were you/ Harry asked.

/Before Self and Host were one, Host was Host and Self was Self./ his clothes agreed.

/And after/

/We were and are one./

/Symbiote/ Harry thought and scratched the back of his head, trying to recollect what little he could recall about symbiosis. /You, Self, joined with me for some sort of reason, probably because you get something out of being one with me. What do you get out of it/

/Self is incapable of sustaining life without Host. Without Host, Self enters hibernation until joined with Host or until all energy fades away and Self is prematurely terminated./ was the somewhat sullen response.

/So, without a Host, you die? Without energy, you die. Energy that you take from me/ Harry mentally raved.

/Correct. Self needs energy for continued existence, energy currently provided by Host. We are one./ the symbiotic life-form replied. /Very little energy is required. Little enough that Host will not notice the loss nor be affected by it./ it added, probably because it sensed how freaked Harry got over having his 'energy' leeched from him by some strange organism.

/What do I get out of it? Other then never having to buy clothes ever again/ Harry asked.

/We are one. Self will protect Host. As Host has noticed already, we are strong. We are more then ten times as strong as Host was alone. We are powerful, Host has more then three times the magic power Host had before Self and Host became one. Self can restore Host, heal injuries inflicted upon Host. Self can repair defects on Host. We can hide, Host cannot be located when we are one. Self and Host partially shares knowledge./ the symbiote responded.

/Partially/ Harry inquired.

/Knowledge is shared imperfectly between Host and Self. Upon joining, Self gained all of Hosts knowledge. What Host learns after we became one, Self needs to learn separately. Self will have easier time of it because of Host knowing, however. Same goes for Host. Host will have easier time learning knowledge Self already knows. Host still needs to learn on Hosts own, however./ the symbiote replied.

/Do you have a name/ Harry asked.

/Self does not. Self has never required one./ was the simple response.

/Well, now you do. I'm going to call you... ... Sym./ Harry decided after a few moments.

/Self is... Sym? Self has a name/ Sym inquired sceptically.

/Yes. You're Sym. I can't go around calling you 'you' all of the time./ Harry insisted.

/Very well, Self has a name. Self is Sym./ Sym agreed, though the note was somewhat bewildered and sceptical. /Sym recommends that we study the books Sym has provided. We need knowledge for sustained existence and prevention of Hosts premature termination./

"Bah, perhaps I should have simply called you Hermione the second." Harry groaned and let out a tired sigh. /Whatever, I don't have time to study right now. I have to get in contact with my friends and Dumbledore, let them know where I am and that I'm all right./

/Sym is aware that Host has obligations. But Sym has suggestion. Sym suggests for us to remain where we are until Hogwarts-school begins anew. Host needs to be prepared, Dumbledore-headmaster and Host-friends will interfere in preparations, provide distractions./ Sym explained.

"Hermione won't. She'll be thrilled and drive me even harder then you ever could." Harry snorted.

Though he couldn't deny that Ron would most likely provide 'distraction'. He didn't know about Dumbledore, but perhaps Sym was right about him as well. The Headmaster certainly hadn't been a stranger to meddling in his life before and would most likely try to do so again.

But it was a whole month left until the start of the next term, being alone with the freaky symbiote until then, would drive him bonkers!

Besides, once news got out that Privet Drive number four was no more and he wasn't there any longer, his friends would get worried.

Or so he hoped, at least. Seeing as how none of them had contacted him so far during this summer, perhaps they weren't as good friends as he had thought they were.

On second thought, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to be incommunicado for a bit. Let them get a taste of their own medicine for a while!

* * *

"Sweat of pig, tear of dog, powdered Belladonna, bark of Birch... Hey, Sym. What was the fifth ingredient?" Harry absently asked as he prepared the first part of a potion from one of the books Sym had provided him with. It would have to simmer on low heat for nearly three days, before the rest of the ingredients could be added.

/Milk from the creature known as goat./ Sym replied while the two tentacles the symbiote had extended from the back of his t-shirt scrawled some runes on a piece of parchment on the desk behind Harry.

While it had taken quite a lot to get used to the weird creature now fused with him, Harry had to admit that there were significant advantages to having Sym around. Sym had a near perfect memory, could read faster then Hermione had ever dreamt of and could provide Harry with as many helping hands as he could possibly wish for.

It was also true that while it would have been better if he could simply access all of Sym's knowledge directly, it did make it a whole lot easier to learn things that Sym already knew about. If Sym had already read a book, Harry only needed to read it once himself to get at the very least the lion's share of whatever subject the book covered. He could learn the rest from talking with Sym, who sometimes appeared annoyingly intelligent.

Though Sym was surprisingly ignorant in some areas.

When it came to learning magic tricks that Sym already knew about, Harry also only needed to read about it once, then practise whatever wand moments were required and get the pronunciation correct, then practise whatever spell, charm or jinx he was trying to learn two or three times, before he stood a reasonable chance to actually succeed.

That was another truly great thing about Sym. Sym had assured Harry that being one, made it nearly impossible to locate them by any means other then actually seeing them. A few test runs had proven this to be true. Harry had even used his own blood, the supposedly strongest link available, but was still unable to scry for himself.

And he knew where he was!

Seeing as how Sym could also provide him with a wand, he could also practise magic whenever he wanted. The Sym-wand was untraceable, so the ministry wouldn't know about him using magic if he used the Sym-wand. His own wand was another matter. While Sym prevented him from being located, the wand would still let the ministry know that he had used magic, even if they couldn't track him down and wail on him for using magic while underage.

Or that was the theory, at least. He hadn't used his wand, but both he and Sym had read up on wands, tracking charms and the means the ministry used to keep tabs on the wands of underage wizards and witches. Both of them had reached the conclusion that the ministry would still know if he used magic, even if they couldn't tell where he was.

So, he'd left the wand in his trunk and counted on Sym to provide him with a wand whenever he wanted to use magic.

Or whenever Sym wanted to do the same.

That was another cool thing about Sym. Sym could actually cast some minor jinxes and charms on its own. It had truly atrocious power levels, however. Just barely above that of a squib, enough to cast some minor hexes, but little else.

The wand Sym provided, while great in its untraceability, did have a downside however. It was by far less powerful then his original one. Whatever he cast with a wand provided by Sym had significantly less kick then he recalled his old wand having. However, he could use and practise magic outside of Hogwarts with it, which was simply awesome!

Harry felt pretty damn good about himself. For the entire first week, he'd been bored to tears. But after that, he'd started to enjoy some time on his own and started to really appreciate just how much he learned from his studies. Sym was one hell of a teaching aid. In the three weeks he'd spent at the Brown Hotel, he'd managed to get way ahead the rest of his age group. He was currently working on sixth-year-level material and was reasonably certain that he'd get A or E grades on all his OWL's if he took them right now and at the very least, acceptable grades, if he took his NEWT's before the year was over.

He missed his friends and he was dying to know if Hedwig had made it, but with Sym around, no owls could locate him. Not even the one owl he was most wishing to see come through his window.

The Wizarding world was in an uproar, apparently. Sym had insisted on requesting for both the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler to be delivered to his room every day, to keep up with what was going on in the outside world.

For the first week, nothing had been mentioned at all about the famous Harry Potter currently being missing. But on the eight day after his disappearance, The Quibbler had it as front-page news. The day after, The Prophet had an article of it's own about it. Ever since, both publications had at least one article a day about the search for the-boy-who-lived.

Harry found it somewhat amusing to read about it from both perspectives. The Prophet was a serious publication, only publishing official statements from the Ministry of Magic about his disappearance. The Quibbler published whatever they could make up, as far as he could tell.

He really liked the article about him having been contacted by the lost Tsar family of Russia, going underground in order to marry into the family and taking control over Russia, with the immortal monk Rasputin as his mentor.

Though the one about him living with the Massai in Africa to get away from the pressures of school was also a hoot.

The one with the rumour about him having been kidnapped by servants of 'you-know-who' and brainwashed into becoming one of his followers, had been less then amusing however. After reading that, he had almost broken his silence and sent off a couple of owls to the people he knew, as well as The Quibbler for publishing such a load of utter crap.

He rarely left his hotel room and whenever he did, he did so in disguise. Sym was a marvel when it came to that. Sym could cover the entirety of Harry's body and morph into whatever shape the two of them desired, changing his entire appearance. Since he used Neville's name, he'd mostly went around as Neville.

Though the one time he'd actually spotted Neville in Diagon Alley, he'd rapidly changed his appearance to that of Draco Malfoy and even traded a few spiteful insults with Neville, before the two of them parted ways.

Bumping into Draco only minutes after that could have been a disaster, if Sym hadn't provided him with a hooded cloak during their excursion, giving him time to change his appearance before Draco got close enough to see underneath the hood and recognize his own features. So Harry had changed back into Neville and traded a different series of insults with the real Draco, this time playing the part of Neville.

It was great!

When the Aurors made a sweep of the alley in search for Harry Potter, he'd even been checked for glamour's by a stern-looking Auror who introduced himself as Auror Shacklebolt. But as Sym didn't use magic to change shape, there had been no glamour's to find and the trained Auror had been unable to tell that the person he was currently checking actually was Harry Potter.

He exhaled with relief as the potion finally turned into the desired colour and he glared sceptically at it for a few moments, before he once again found himself smirking at his own success. With Sym around to properly explain things and without an intimidating teacher berating his every move, he found to his immense surprise that he actually enjoyed Potions.

An even greater surprise was that he actually appeared to be rather good at it!

He couldn't wait until school started and he got the chance to show that good-for-nothing-teacher just how much he'd improved over the summer! Snape would be blown away!

Speaking of getting back to school, he only had four more days until school would start again.

Perhaps it was time to break his exile and let people know that he was still around and would be returning to school after all.

He lowered the heat and let the potion simmer according to the recipe, then turned around to observe what Sym was doing. The tentacles never wavered in their work, they simply shifted the place where they extended from his back until they were extended from his chest instead.

/What are you working on/ Harry asked.

/The Goblin alphabet./ Sym responded distractedly, slowly and carefully filling the paper with odd-looking runes. /A NEWT-level Ancient Runes assignment from five years ago./ it added by the way of explanation as a tendril extended from one of the tentacles and indicated a scroll on the desk next to the parchment.

One of the things the two of them had left the room to acquire, was old school notes, papers and books from old Hogwarts-students, which they had used to practise their new skills with. It also gave them a general indication of what things they might need to focus on more then others in their joint studies.

/I hope you haven't used up all the parchment. I was going to write a few letters to let people know that I'm still alive./ Harry thought at his constant companion.

/I have not./ Sym responded indignantly, causing Harry to chuckle with amusement.

While Sym was still incredibly formal-sounding at most times, it had grown more 'human' over their isolation, gaining a better understanding of some human emotions and traits. Humour, sarcasm and irony were apparently lost causes, however. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get Sym to understand.

Telling outright lies was another thing Sym had problems dealing with. At least to begin with. He had no problems with avoidance, but telling lies seemed nearly impossible to do. Though after a few weeks of hiding and subterfuge, Sym had gained a certain amount of appreciation for this odd activity. While Sym never lied to him, at least not as far as Harry knew, he was certainly quick enough to suggest lies for Harry to tell.

/Good./ Harry responded with a faint smile. /I'm surprised that you aren't protesting against it, actually./ he added, seeing as how Sym had constantly argued against it whenever he had brought it up before during their time together.

/Our mind is made up./ Sym reasoned. /Besides, it matters little at this point. We have improved significantly during our self-imposed exile. We are far more prepared to face the world then we were previously./

/You got that right. I'm actually looking forward to studying with Hermione now, it'll be fun to watch her jaw drop./ Harry thought, chuckling at the mental imagery.

/I fail to see the humour in the situation./ Sym informed him.

/You always do./ Harry agreed, not bothering even trying to explain it for the alien being.

Harry hastily wrote a few letters. Ron and Hermione deserved to hear from him. He even added two notes to Mrs Weasly and Ginny in the letter he would be sending to Ron. McGonagall got another one, seeing as how she was usually the one to sign the letters he got before each term. He also asked her to let Dumbledore and Hagrid know that he was all right. Since no owl had been able to locate him, he didn't know what this years letter had said, if they'd even bothered to send him one, but he figured he should let them know that he was still planning to attend school this year.

He wrote two others, one for The Prophet and one for The Quibbler. Sym assisted him somewhat. While Sym had never written a letter in its entire existence, the formal language that Sym used was useful here. Harry simply told Sym what he wanted to say, then had Sym repeat it in it's own words, which was what Harry wrote down in these two letters.

Once he was finished, he left the hotel disguised as Neville Longbottom and headed for the local Post Owlery, where he had to fork out five galleons for the use of their owls to deliver his letters. He didn't care much about it, he certainly had money enough to do so.

Once he was through, he went down to the hotel restaurant where he ate his supper, before he returned to his room for another bout of training.

The End! ( For now... )


	3. Three

Venomous Wizardry PG-13  
Niklas "Hawk" Jonsson

Summary: Being Harry Potter isn't all that easy, especially not when the house he's grown up in is destroyed in a freak disaster and a bloodthirsty alien symbiote decides to start moonlighting as his boxer shorts! Harry PotterVenom xover.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hogwarts and whatnot are not mine, though I certainly wish they were. The story is mine though, all mine.  
If the layout looks screwy or symbols seems to be missing, you're probably reading the quickedit-mangled version of this fic on ff dot net, if it grates on your nerves too much, read it on hawksgalaxy dot com or something. ... Whenever I get around to uploading it there. :)

Feedback/Flames: Yes, please. Both of them are equally fun to read, although I must admit that I greatly prefer the first variety. :)  
I can be found on ICQ as 21771860, MSN Messenger/E-mail as iamhawk at yahoo dot com, though not very frequently as real life lately interferes with my online existance more then I'd like. More stories are available at my nifty lil' site at hawksgalaxy dot com or by clicking on my handle up above.

"speech"  
emphasis/shouts/Kindred Domination/post-hypnotic triggers  
/thoughts/  
/telepathy/  
translation  
+soundeffect/radio/telephone conversation/TV+

Previously, on 'Venomous Wizardry'

Harry hastily wrote a few letters. Ron and Hermione deserved to hear from him. He even added two notes to Mrs Weasly and Ginny in the letter he would be sending to Ron. McGonagall got another one, seeing as how she was usually the one to sign the letters he got before each term. He also asked her to let Dumbledore and Hagrid know that he was all right. Since no owl had been able to locate him, he didn't know what this years letter had said, if they'd even bothered to send him one, but he figured he should let them know that he was still planning to attend school this year.

He wrote two others, one for The Prophet and one for The Quibbler. Sym assisted him somewhat. While Sym had never written a letter in its entire existence, the formal language that Sym used was useful here. Harry simply told Sym what he wanted to say, then had Sym repeat it in it's own words, which was what Harry wrote down in these two letters.

Once he was finished, he left the hotel disguised as Neville Longbottom and headed for the local Post Owlery, where he had to fork out five galleons for the use of their owls to deliver his letters. He didn't care much about it, he certainly had money enough to do so.

Once he was through, he went down to the hotel restaurant where he ate his supper, before he returned to his room for another bout of training.

Roll credits

* * *

Chapter Three:

"Harry's alive!" Ron screamed as he opened the letter the unfamiliar owl had delivered.

"Pffffft!" was the sound Ginny made, which incidentally was the sound a young girl makes when she sprays a mouthful of milk across the kitchen table at one of her older brothers.

"A letter from the ever so elusive..." Fred started.

"And ever so illustrious Harry Potter?" George finished.

"Ginny... Control yourself. Please?" Percy sighed as he reached for a napkin, which he used to wipe milk off his face.

"He's alive!" Molly hollered and would have dropped the frying pan and ruined a perfectly good pancake, if the enchanted pan hadn't floated on it's own over to the stove when she lost her grip on it.

"Merlin's beard." Arthur remarked. "Where has he been all this time?"

"What does it say!" Ginny demanded to know, glaring commandingly at her only slightly older brother.

"'Hello Ron.

Yes, I'm alive. I haven't eloped to Russia, been kidnapped by Voldemort or asked for Asylum in the Goblin Nation. As I'm sure you've already heard, a meteor destroyed Privet Drive number four, leaving me without a place to stay. I thought of heading to the Burrow at first, but I didn't want to impose on you and your family.'" Ron quoted off the letter.

"IMPOSE!" Molly screamed. "When I get my hands on that boy..." she muttered, making weird conflicting motions with her hands and arms, as if she wasn't sure if she'd hug him to bits or strangle him to death when next she saw him.

"'I didn't know where to go, so I've lived on my own for a while. It's been a marvellous summer, I must say. I've had more fun then I've ever had at the Dursley's, may they rest uneasily in hell. It's been great, only having myself to take care of and not having to bother with or be bothered by the three rubbish heaps on legs I'm usually forced to stay with in the summer.

I'm sorry that I haven't contacted you before, but I really needed some time on my own and I didn't want to risk anybody interfering with my glorious summer vacation. If you've tried to owl me since the comet struck, I'm guessing you've had little or no luck. Sorry, but I really needed some privacy, so I've been untouchable for a while.

Anyway, just wanted to let you know that I'm really looking forward to the new school year and that I'll see you at Kings Cross, if not before. I'll be in Diagon Alley the day before to do some last minute shopping, so perhaps we'll see each other there?

Owls still can't reach me, but you can leave a message for me at The Leaky Cauldron if you want. I'll be passing by there around lunch the day before the train leaves, in case you want to meet up or something.

Your friend  
Harry Potter'" Ron finished and fell silent for a few moments, not quite sure if he should be jumping for joy that his best friend was alive or curse Harry out loud for making him worry so. The paper crinkled in his hands and he took a few breaths of air to calm down, before he noted that there were two other pieces of paper in the envelope. He pulled them out and blinked at what was written on them.

"Here. This is for you." Ron suddenly said, handing over a folded piece of paper that had been included with his letter, with 'Ginny' scrawled on it to his little sister. "And this is for you." he added, handing another note with 'Mrs Weasly' scrawled on it to his mother.

"'Hey Gin. I'm having a great summer so far, despite recent events. I can't say much about it now, but I wanted to let you know that if you can go two weeks without stuttering or blushing in my presence, I'll...'" Ginny read off her note, then suddenly stopped talking and blushed furiously.

"He'll what!" Ron demanded, snatching the note from Ginny who responded with a shriek and grabbed the parchment intending to snatch it back. It tore in half and unfortunately for Ginny's blood pressure, Ron was left with the business end of Harry's note. "'I'll give you something really nice. I'll be in Diagon Alley the day before school, but if you can't make it, I'll see you at Kings Cross. Your friend, Harry Potter.'" he quoted, then scratched the back of his head in confusion. "You blushed over this?" he asked with a curious look directed at Ginny as he returned the torn piece of paper to her.

"I think that perhaps..." Fred started.

"Gin-Gin was imagining just..." George kept on going.

"What sort of 'really nice'..." Fred continued.

"Harry might give her." George finished, before the two twins made kissing noises, which caused Ginny to blush even harder.

"Oh, stop it you two." Molly admonished her children, offering a sympathetic look at Ginny. Tomboy she may be after growing up with six older brothers, but she was still a girl with a crush and Molly could sympathise with her. Although she would be making damn sure that Harry and Ginny weren't left on their own for several years to come.

/At least not long enough for them to do anything really inappropriate. Slightly inappropriate is okay though./ she mentally amended with a little smile, as she unfolded her own note and read out loud from it.

"'Hi Mrs Weasly. I know you've probably been worried about me, so I just wanted to assure you that I've been perfectly fine and have had the best summer ever. I have been eating well and I've been responsible, not winding up in bad company or anything of the sort. I'll see you at Kings Cross, or Diagon Alley the day before the train departs if you find your way there. Loving regards, Harry Potter.'" she read off her note. "Oh, how sweet." she approved and wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes. "You could all do well to learn from Harry and send your poor mother a letter once in a while when you're off at school!" she snapped, regarding all her children with a stern look.

"We will, mom." all five of them chorused.

"You'd better!" Molly agreed.

* * *

"There's an owl here, Hermione." her mother's voice called from the kitchen, causing Hermione to pause in the midst of washing her hair.

Ron and Ginny had sent her a letter just yesterday and she had yet to send a reply, so it probably wasn't from them. She'd gotten her letter from school and wasn't expecting anything else.

Unless...

/News about Harry/ she wondered.

Hoped.

Prayed.

"Just take the letter and give the owl something to eat and drink if it will accept it. I'll be down in a few minutes!" Hermione yelled and hastily rinsed her hair, before she wrapped her shower up short, scurried outside and towelled herself off. She practically threw on her clothes and ran downstairs to the kitchen, where her mother was staring faintly apprehensively at the grey-brown owl sitting on the kitchen sink, sipping water from a saucer with a half-eaten piece of sausage next to the water it had been given.

While both her parents had gotten somewhat used to the odd world their daughter now belonged to, the owls the Wizarding World employed for communication still made them both a bit nervous. Hermione couldn't really blame them either, she too wasn't all that comfortable around the unfamiliar birds, although she had gotten rather fond of Harry's snow-white owl, Hedwig.

This wasn't Hedwig though and her mood took a dive, having hoped for a message from Harry. Though she did wonder who could have sent her a letter, as she'd never seen this particular owl before.

Her mother pointed at the kitchen table, where Hermione found a letter sporting a very recognizable writing and her mood instantly sky-rocketed.

"It's from Harry!" Hermione yelped gleefully and rushed at the table, tearing the letter open and sealing her eyes to the familiar semi-sloppy handwriting Harry used when he was making an effort to make his writing readable without the use of a translation charm, as opposed to the illegible chicken-scratches he used when taking notes for class or otherwise writing for his own benefit.

Hello Hermione.

Sorry for not contacting you earlier, but I needed some time on my own to consider my life and situation after the Dursley's house was destroyed and I didn't want to chance having my alone-time interrupted if someone managed to track me down.

I've been well, in fact, this has probably been the best summer ever, so you can stop worrying about me now. I'm great, unharmed and I haven't slacked off in my studies. In fact, I've probably been working harder this month then I ever have. In fact, I may even be able to give you some competition in classes this year!

I hope you've had a productive and fun summer as well, hopefully not spending all of it with your nose buried in some dusty books. All work and no play may make Hermione a well educated girl, but you need to let loose and have some fun once in a while as well.

I will be going back to Hogwarts to continue my studies, and no, I haven't eloped with foreign royalty, been kidnapped by Voldemort, decided to live out the rest of my life with snakes in south America or whatever other silly rumour you may have heard or read in the Quibbler. I have some last minute shopping to do in Diagon Alley, which I am going to do on the day before the train leaves, so if you can get away, we can meet up and have a chat in person then. Otherwise, I'll see you at Kings Cross.

Your friend  
Harry Potter

"Harry, you moron." Hermione said fondly, shaking her head. She did let out a relieved sigh and relaxed her posture however, now that she knew that he was okay.

"That's from the boy you've been worried about ever since we came back from our vacation?" her mother asked, then grinned. "Is he your boyfriend, 'Mione? You certainly talked enough about him for me to suspect it."

"Mom!" Hermione protested, blushing furiously. "He isn't, I keep telling you! He's just a friend!" she insisted.

"But you wish he were, perhaps?" her mother slyly asked.

"No!" Hermione protested after a few moments of bewildered hesitation.

"Oh well, things can change quickly in your age. I don't need to tell you about the birds and the bees, do I?" she asked.

"No, you don't!" Hermione snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at her smiling mother. "And that wouldn't be an issue in any way whatsoever when it comes to Harry and me anyway!" she added for good measure.

"Whatever you say, 'Mione." she agreed and laughed as she pulled Hermione into her arms for a motherly hug.

* * *

"Hagrid. While Auror Tonks did find some of his blood at the scene and discovered that he had been taken to a Muggle Hospital, but later disappeared from it. According to her, the Muggle Healers wasn't overly worried about his condition. He probably left on his own, so the Muggles wouldn't discover anything about the Wizarding World. I'm sure that he's all right and merely in hiding." McGonagall tiredly insisted, rubbing her left temple.

"Ye are?" Hagrid hopefully asked, but only moments later broke down and started sobbing, hugging Fang close to his chest, crying into his fur. "Poor 'arry! I'm sure that some Muggle 'as eaten 'im!"

"Muggles do not eat each other." McGonagall firmly insisted, though she had to admit that she was unsure about that herself. She did recall reading something about Muggles eating other Muggles a long time ago, but wasn't sure if that was a wide-spread dietary preference or not.

"I wouldn't put anything past them! He's been eaten, I'm sure of it!" Hagrid wailed and let out a few pathetic sniffles, as Fang directed a pleading gaze at McGonagall, as if to say 'Please do something about this before I get hugged to death!'.

"Pull yourself together, Rubeus!" McGonagall snapped. "I'm sure that..." she started, only to trail off as an unfamiliar owl flew into the cottage and landed on her left shoulder with a letter addressed to her. She snatched it from the owl and tore it open, her eyes widening as she recognized the hand-writing and realized who it came from. "It's from Harry!" she exclaimed, then found the letter torn out of her hands at the same time as a faint 'thump' from a large dog landing on the ground after having been pushed out of Hagrid's lap could be heard.

"He's alive!" Hagrid enthused as he eagerly started to read the letter. "'Hello Professor McGonagall. I just wanted to let you know that I will be attending Hogwarts this year as well and that I'm all right. I needed some time on my own to consider matters after the Dursley house was destroyed. Part of my arrangements for privacy meant that owls couldn't reach me, so I have not received the start-of-term-letter. I will be shopping in Diagon Alley the day before the express departs, so I would be very grateful if you could leave a message at The Leaky Cauldron for me stating what sort of supplies I need to purchase for the new year. I would also appreciate it if you could let Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Hagrid know that I'm all right. Respectfully yours, Harry Potter'" Hagrid quoted from the letter, as McGonagall fumed in silence at having missed out on the opportunity to read the letter herself first.

"Give me the letter, Rubeus." McGonagall insisted and Hagrid reluctantly surrendered the letter to Harry's Head of House, who quickly read it through before she offered up a faint smile to the towering half-giant. "See? He's okay. Though I'll certainly have a word with Mister Potter about worrying us all so. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd better go tell the Headmaster about this." she finished, though Hagrid didn't appear to hear her, busying himself by pulling out ingredients for baking as far as she could tell.

She shuddered and hastily left his cottage, well before he could offer her some of whatever rock-hard concoction he was planning to make.

The last time she'd accepted something Hagrid had made, she had to see Poppy Pomfrey to get three of her teeth repaired.

* * *

"A letter from Harry Potter?" David Shortneck said with a raised eyebrow, as he pulled the letter out of the envelope and feasted his eyes upon what the Boy-Who-Lived might have to say. "'Greetings Mr Shortneck. I have been following your series of articles regarding my current whereabouts and decided to offer you and your publication some information. I am currently alive and well, the rumours about my disappearance have been greatly exaggerated. I will be returning to Hogwarts for the next term. Respectfully, Harry James Potter.'" he quoted off the letter, turning it over and frowning. "That's it?" he asked himself, before shaking his head.

While he would have liked a better and much longer explanation, not to mention a chance to ask Potter some questions, at least it was some sort of news. He considered the fact that it might be a fraud, but the signature was magic and authentic. If it was a fraud, it was a damned good one. Faking a magical signature wasn't impossible, but it was no mean feat. The list of people that could do such a thing, was a very short one.

"Well, let's get cracking." he murmured and started writing a short article about Potters letter and his supposed state of well-being for the next days issue of the Daily Prophet.

* * *

"Father. There's a letter for you." Luna Lovegood cheerfully announced as she strolled into her fathers cluttered office.

"Another howler?" Oedipus Lovegood murmured absently as he tip-tapped along on an old-fashioned typewriter. While he didn't quite share the overwhelming fascination with Muggle-tech that had possessed Arthur Weasley, he did find some of the things the Muggles had developed over the years rather amusing and very useful. The typewriter was one of those.

"Doesn't look like it." Luna replied, turning the white envelope over and glancing curiously at the return address. There wasn't one, but it did say who the sender was, a fact she hadn't noticed earlier. "It's from Harry Potter." she said, before she blinked. "Oh, how nice of him! Perhaps he included photographs from his wedding." she suggested.

"From Potter?" Oedipus exclaimed, looking up and gazing intently at the letter, before he almost flew out of his chair and darted around the desk, grabbing, opening and reading the letter in a practised manner. "'Greetings Mr Lovegood. I have been following your articles about me and would like to set the record straight about my current whereabouts. I have been in seclusion ever since the unfortunate incident that killed my relatives and destroyed the house where I was staying. I have many enemies and many fans, neither of which I wanted to meet and that led to the decision that I would be better off in seclusion while I contemplated my situation. I am physically fine and retained no wounds or injuries from the incident. I am returning to Hogwarts for the new term and will be looking forward to seeing my friends at school again. Respectfully, Harry James Potter. PS, give my best to your daughter who I understand attends Hogwarts in the year after me. DS.'" he quoted off the letter, before scratching his jaw in a thoughtful manner.

"Luna, what do you think about this?" Oedipus asked curiously, gazing at his daughter.

"A cover-up?" Luna suggested. "I think he's trying to hide the fact that he's been hunting Snorkacks. He always did strike me as the kind of person who would want to go out and rediscover hidden wonders for the Wizarding world."

"Ahhh, of course. He's been trying to out scoop us, the little rascal!" Oedipus announced. "What a delightful boy! Do you think he would like to join our little hunt over the winter vacation?"

"I will ask him, father." Luna replied, her smile widening slightly at the thought of having company her own age around when hunting for Snorkacks. Perhaps he'd even be willing to help test her father's theory that Snorkacks were attracted by human pheromones. If they went naked on the next safari and spent a great deal of time snogging with each other, the Snorkacks would no doubt be able to smell them from miles away and come running to investigate!

Though she would ask Ronald Weasley first, while Harry was an attractive boy from what she'd seen of him, her own production of pheromones would likely be far greater if Ronald assisted them in their hunt.

"Where are we going this time?" she asked him.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! My sources indicate that the reason why we haven't been able to find them yet is that we've been looking in the wrong places. Apparently, they've migrated east and north over the last five hundred years. There were some promising sightings in Germany twenty years ago, so we're heading to Schwartzwald forest in Germany over the winter. If that doesn't pan out, we'll try elsewhere for our next trip." Oedipus cheerfully exclaimed.

"Sounds marvellous, father." Luna approved. /Trekking naked through the forest with Ronald... He would be my Satyr and I would be his Wooden Nymph.../ she thought with a dreamy expression on her face.

The End! ( For now... )


End file.
